391: Kill Her With Kindness (Patreon)

He and Serrin flew, silent and invisible, over the ruin of the City; ceilings full of gaping holes, tottering tumble-down walls, crooked spires, Observation snapping pictures and cooing at the cornices. As they went Nicolai reflected that this was how it could have been. Just the two of them.

The happy dream quickly faded as he resumed wondering what they would be saying back there, and considering the need to dig into Serrin’s feelings towards the group. It was becoming increasingly clear to him the Hornet was dangerously attached. Well, there was nothing for it. He pinged Serrin and opened a connection.

After a moment’s thought, he began, ‘Thank you for sticking up for me back there. I’m glad you at least can recognise how unfair they were being.’

‘It was unfair,’ answered Serrin. ‘You did help.’

‘I know. Quite a state they’d be in without us.’

‘Yes.’ The Hornet looked over at him. ‘Did you have to point that out in quite so much detail? The head smashing thing? I don’t think that was necessary.’

‘Why? You think we should be concerned over her feelings? Someone like her shouldn’t even be out here. Why is it, Serrin, that you are so interested in her?’

‘I…’ The Hornet looked away. Then back. ‘It’s because she’s a good person. Can’t you see that? And I get that she can be emotional. And maybe she doesn’t always do the wisest things, but, well, she’s not always wrong either. You said you weren’t happy about what happened back there. The dragon falling, or being stuck down here, but I have to say, you don’t exactly seem unhappy either.’

‘What makes you think that?’ asked Nicolai, wondering just what Serrin had noticed, and also, as the Modules pressed up within him and the Mask with them, thinking on just how much he should share.

Serrin looked away, scanning the Dead City. He let his M99 hang down toward the ground. With his wings and the angular skinsuit and a long rifle and the way his legs were bent, from a distance you could mistake him for some kind of strange insect. Which, of course, was precisely what he was.

‘We’ve been together a little while now,’ said Serrin, ‘and I trust you, and I hope you trust me too. I talked to those Modules of yours, too, and though you keep your Soul guarded, I think that even though we haven’t known each other that long, I think I can say that I know you.’

Nicolai didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what to say.

‘And I think you were happy. Happy when the attack started, because you wanted a fight. And I think you became happier still when it got tough because’—and he looked back—‘you want to prove how indispensable you are to them. You want them to know that they need you. You want them to need you.’

Before Nicolai could reply, Serrin was already continuing. ‘When we first started working together,’ the Hornet said, ‘I was much the same. I felt I had to prove I was useful to you, to demonstrate that you should work with me, that it would benefit both of us. It’s only now that we’re past that, and I know I can rely on you, and you know you can rely on me, that I stopped feeling like that.’

The Mask was swelling over Nicolai’s face, while the Modules, some of them at least, let out happy sighs. To his surprise, he felt his lip lifting just a bit in a smile. It was strange how focused he found himself on this moment, on the Hornet’s words.

‘I felt that way with Junko and her group, too,’ continued Serrin, ‘when I first met them. But then I realised they’re not so different to you and me. They’re good people. There’s no need to prove that I’m useful.’ The Hornet’s coasting path through the air came to a stop, his wings flicking, and he turned to fully face Nicolai, who stopped with him. ‘I think you just have to stop being such an arsehole.’

Nicolai frowned. ‘In what way am I an arsehole? I was merely trying to ensure we behaved optimally. It’s not my fault that Junko’—the little bitch, he thought—‘has such an issue with me.’

‘She could have behaved better, sure,’ said Serrin. ‘I’ll talk to her.’

‘You should.’

The Mask was twisting slightly on Nicolai’s face. It was difficult for him to grasp at what it was feeling.

‘And what will you say when you speak to her?’ he found himself asking.

‘I don’t know. But I know she’ll come around, if I come at her in the right way. I think she’s just a little threatened by you, is all. That and you two really rub each other the wrong way. It’s like everything you say upsets her, and everything she says annoys you.’

‘She doesn’t annoy me. I’m perfectly calm, cool, and in control.’

‘Really,’ said Serrin, emanating massive doubt.

And something about the way he said it reminded Nicolai starkly of the moment he’d advanced on her, and he felt that killing rage stirring in the Dark again.

‘Have I been crying and wailing?’ he said, eyes narrowing. ‘Screaming about nothing, like an idiotic child?’

‘No,’ said Serrin, ‘but still. Even if you’ve not been doing any of that, you could still say you’ve been a bit immature. Because if you were more mature, wouldn’t you just not even have gotten angry at all?’

‘I wasn’t—’ began Nicolai.

There was a deeply uncomfortable, annoying feeling within him, a jarring little niggle in his chest, and it seemed to be feeding the words coming out of his mouth, which were, he realised, hot and angry.

Where was all this coming from? Why was he so… so… He shook his head, struggling to work out this mix of anger and disgust, and a desire to be just about anywhere else. He was—

Upset, supplied Psychology.

And then he felt it, radiating from his face. Anger. And that anger was twining through him, deep inside where it found the Dark. It took it, fanned it, set it to bubbling, filling him with vicious imagery. And he realised all this was coming, at its core, from the Mask.

And somehow, neither he nor the Modules—as they all twitched, stirring and peering closer at it—had noticed. Back then, while arguing, he hadn’t felt much of anything from the Mask, assuming it simply had no stake. But no, he had been feeling a great deal from it, and had simply assumed what he was feeling—bitter anger—must be coming from somewhere else, because of course it couldn’t be coming from the Mask. And he’d set it up, given it a prioritised line into him, so it could help him against the Dark, but instead it had been fuelling the Dark!

What is this? he said, speaking to it direct, demanding an answer.

It stirred, unhappy, strangely embarrassed. I don’t like her.

‘Wha—?’ he half said the word out loud, blinking in confusion. He couldn’t remember the Mask ever not liking someone. And someone like Junko, it should be all over her. She practically overflowed with its favourite combination of naïve touchy-feely moralising idiocy.

She’s annoying, it snapped at him. And I don’t see why Serrin likes her so much. What’s so great about her?

Are you jealous? asked Psychology.

No! snarled the Mask.

Serrin was saying something, but he couldn’t even hear. He was just floating there, struck dumb with realisation. He’d never thought to suspect this from the Mask, had been totally blindsided by it. Was trying now to determine just how long its feelings had been running through him, influencing him to be, to be—

‘An emotional idiot?’ he murmured, and a wave of existential dread rolled over him, and he was struck by the blinding realisation that while he’d been accusing Junko of behaving like a child, he had in fact also been behaving like a child! Except she literally was a child. She was, what, seventeen or something?

Eighteen, put in Cyberwarfare helpfully. The Module had skimmed all kinds of random information from her public Local profile.

For a brief moment his wings stopped beating and his stomach lurched as he dropped down, flared them back to life, caught himself, then was moving aimlessly, wings buzzing as he shifted forward then back, glaring hatefully at the ground far below. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been acting stu—du—inefficiently. How had he not seen this? What the hell was wrong with him? He shook his head. Pathetic, truly pathetic.

‘What is?’ asked Serrin.

Nicolai froze, turned back to see the Hornet trailing after him, emanating concern, and he realised he’d spoken aloud. His lip twisted in a sneer as his sudden fury with himself was snatched up by the Dark, and he groaned at the realisation that he was beset by… all this again. He’d thought he was past all this. Really? Really? All it took was an accusation by a stupid little girl and the Mask throwing a tantrum and he was back to talking to himself like a crazy person.

‘Are you okay?’ Serrin went on.

And Nicolai pulled in a deep breath, let it out in a miserable raspberry. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m better. Better now.’

He was wrestling the Mask down, but it was having its own little internal moment. It was reviewing how he had behaved—or how perhaps its pressures had prodded him into behaving—and it was feeling guilt. Not the guilt it should feel, guilt for waylaying him and leading him to act inefficiently. Instead it was feeling guilt for how he had snapped at Serrin. And it was recalling how the Hornet had stuck up for him. Had taken his side, even with all that, defended him—and he had rewarded Serrin by growling at him. It was thinking that he really didn’t deserve Serrin.

Yes, you don’t, he hissed at it.

At last it released its grip on him, retreating to a sulky corner. He took another heavy breath.

‘I’m sorry for how I acted, Serrin. Truly. You’re right. About everything.’

‘I am?’ replied Serrin, in near shock.

‘Yes.’ Floating closer, he reached out, laid a fatherly hand on the Hornet’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, my friend. I’m glad to have you at my side.’ Serrin perked up at his words, clearly pleased.

The Hornet had stuck up for him. That counted for quite a bit, and if he wanted Serrin to keep on doing so, some kind of positive reinforcement was worthwhile.

Inwardly, he and Psychology were plotting. His prior reaction to Junko was not how one Made Friends And Influenced People. We are going to do better, he hissed, much better. The Module nodded, grinning eagerly back at him in the mental space.

I suggest a new strategy, it said: Working Title: Kill Her With Kindness.

Go on.

No matter what she does, no matter how unreasonable she acts, we reply calmly and kindly. Treat her not as an annoying child you hate, but as an annoying child you calmly tolerate. Not simply Mr Reasonable, but Mr… Reasonable And Kind. You are the adult patiently putting up with her antics. Then, step two… Psychology’s voice grew darker, its mental grin widened. We can incite her in little ways, ways the others won’t notice, things she cannot prove. Inflame her emotions. It won’t be difficult. The more angry and unreasonable she becomes, while you retain your persona of patient kindness, the more the others will notice the disconnect. They may even begin to pity you. Yes… it chuckled evilly. Before long, they’ll be sighing as once again she’s snapping at you and causing trouble for no apparent reason.

Step One works for me. What is the ultimate purpose of Step Two? Nicolai asked. The Mask was paying closer attention, and he could feel that it really liked this plan, which was the main reason he opted to review it carefully.

The benefits are manifold. As we sow little divisions between her and the others, we will be able to raise our own stock in the group and leverage ourselves into a more influential position. Meanwhile, as her position weakens and she turns more desperate, it will become ever easier to manipulate her. The Module let out a slightly deranged cackle, which reminded him of the need to keep an eye on it. Sensing his raised eyebrow, Psychology collected itself. Or, perhaps not. There are risks—Yue is rather perceptive, and Serrin may… disapprove of such behaviour, in the unlikely event he recognised it.

We will try out at least the first part, and possibly the second, depending on how things go, he decided.

‘Let’s head back to the others,’ he said to Serrin. ’Night’s coming, and I’m concerned about how slowly we’re moving.’

Serrin glanced back in the direction they’d come from. ‘Yes, they’re quite far behind. Will you be okay with Junko?’

‘Of course,’ murmured Nicolai. ‘Don’t worry about her. Or rather, me,’ and he chuckled. ‘No, no, I’ll be entirely… sanguine, regardless of how she is.’

He could hardly wait for her to start yelling at him, so he could stand there, completely calm and in control, treat her like the child she—

Scowling, he shoved the Mask back. Stop it.

By the time they got back the sun had sunk into a great orange half disc, peering sullenly over the horizon, its fading light catching the tops of tall buildings and towers and casting their shadows in great, scrawling fingers over the Dead City. The streets were dark and still, choked up with the sodden mist that was only rising higher as the light drained. There, clustered atop a building, was the group. To Nicolai’s eye they looked unprepared and unsuited to this place, liable to be ground down and spat out.